


gold rush

by rememberingsunday



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwalin is badass, Erebor High School, Highschool AU, I'm Sorry, M/M, Modern AU, Nerd!Bilbo, Sassy Bilbo, Slow Burn, Thorin is a Softie, and everyone wants to know why they aren't fucking, but everyone is horrified at how they treat each other, footballplayer!Thorin, kind of a love/hate situation eventually, they become two peas in a pod, thorin is mean but in a playful way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberingsunday/pseuds/rememberingsunday
Summary: Bilbo's about to settle in for dinner when his phone buzzes. He glances down as the message pops up on his screen.what're you up toHis heart beats faster, and he responds before he can second guess himself.just thinkin' bout how you're a few neurons short of a proper brainThe response comes faster than he expected.i miss you, too <3He can't stop the blush spreading across his cheeks, and he's tempted to screenshot it, just so he can remember that Thorin typed those words to him, just so he can have proof.Then his phone buzzes again.but not as much as i miss fucking your momHe blinks down at the screen, his lips quirking into an unwilling smile. Yes, they're horribly rude to each other, and God knows he would be ashamed if anyone else knew how they spoke to each other, but... he's not sure he would trade it for anything.|Or, the one where Bilbo has been in love with Thorin Durin, golden boy of Erebor High School, for as long as he can remember. When they finally start to become friends, it turns out it's not quite what he expected. Thorin is not quite what he expected.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), more relationships to be added - Relationship
Comments: 25
Kudos: 63





	1. eyes like sinking ships on water

**Author's Note:**

> well... i have no explanation for this. kind of late to the fandom, but been writing for a few hours now and thought i'd just post it and see if anyone likes it

It’s raining outside, a torrential sort of downpour that has people covering their heads with their coats and running as fast as they can to their cars. Bilbo sighs, watching as someone (a student sneaking away from class, he imagines) slips in a puddle and ends up fantastically wet and muddy, the look of dismay on their face almost comical.

_ Honestly.  _ You would think they were all tourists, with the way these people were reacting. It’s just a little rain.

As if in response to Bilbo’s thoughts, a loud crack of thunder breaks the relatively peaceful - if not drowsy - silence of his English class. His teacher, Mr. Grey, pauses and then smiles widely at the bored students in front of him.

“Bit of a drizzle, hmm?” He comments, adjusting the ridiculous hat he’s wearing. This one is a rather offending shade of purple, and its style is not one Bilbo can easily place. Whatever kind of hat it is, Bilbo is sure of one thing: it’s hideous. 

Next to him, his best friend Bofur sniggers. Bilbo would bet a good twenty pounds that he’s sniggering at the exact same thing Bilbo himself was just thinking.

“I swear, his hats get worse everyday,” Bofur leans over and whispers this in his ear. 

Bilbo smirks. “I think he’s aware of it. I think he  _ intentionally  _ chooses a hat that distracts us from our studies. Quite rude of him, really.”

Bofur leans back as Mr. Grey gives them a piercing, all too knowing look (often, Bilbo thinks that Mr. Grey may be able to read the thoughts of others, but only when they are thinking about his hats) and Bilbo sighs again, returning to his window watching and feeling like he may doze off any second. It’s not  _ his  _ fault that English is right before lunch. Bilbo’s always needed more food than the average person, and he can feel his energy reserves draining away with every second he spends without a snack of some sort. 

His eyes are just beginning to droop closed when the bell rings mercifully. Bofur and him meander out into the hall, joining a sea of uniformed students as they follow the crowd to the cafeteria. 

“Did you finish the quiz for next week?” He asks Bofur as they stop by their lockers. 

Bofur heaves a great sigh, as if the weight of the world rests upon his shoulders, and pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. Bilbo’s always been jealous of Bofur’s hair - thick, dark brown and long, it’s absolutely the poster child for teenage rebellion. Bilbo’s mother would have his head if he stopped cutting his hair. 

“What do you think?” Bofur asks Bilbo, somewhat sardonically, instead of offering a real response.

Bilbo is about to reply in kind when someone bumps into his shoulder. Quite hard, at that. He stumbles into his locker, and although it doesn’t hurt, it’s not  _ pleasant.  _

“My bad!” Someone exclaims, and well, whatever harsh words Bilbo had been about to unleash upon them are lost. He knows that voice. He knows that voice far, far too well.

He spins around and finds himself all too close to Thorin Durin. Forget what he said about Bofur’s hair - if Bofur’s hair is good, Thorin’s hair is…  _ incredible.  _ Thick and black, it barely brushes his shoulders, and yet manages to look fetchingly silky and soft - a real win when compared to the other boys in Erebor High School. Greasy and unkempt is much more common around here. And if that isn’t enough, Thorin is also blessed with gorgeous blue eyes, eyes that stand out like opals against that raven hair, and his body isn’t half bad either -

Bilbo has to forcibly break himself out of his thoughts - his entirely inappropriate thoughts. Bofur is shooting him a side-eye while talking with Thorin, but Bilbo refuses to acknowledge it. He knows Bofur knows that he - well, he can barely even think the words, they’re so embarrassing.  _ Everyone  _ has a crush on popular football star Thorin Durin. It is humiliating to be one of a hundred. So he won’t be. 

Balin and Dwalin materialize next to Thorin. Although they’re brothers, they could not look less alike, with the exception that they both are fantastically good at looking menacing - as they do now. Balin has hair similar in length to Thorin’s, but a pale, flaxen color. Dwalin has no hair at all, and instead sports some truly intimidating tattoos on his head. Again - Bilbo would have no head to tattoo if he ever came home to his mother like that. 

“Thanks, I saw you in the stands last Friday,” Thorin is saying to Bofur, not sparing another glance at Bilbo - who is perfectly fine with that, thank you very much. 

“You going to Ori’s party this weekend?” Bofur asks Thorin, the epitome of casual coolness. 

Bilbo experiences a quick wave of envy, as he usually does when he witnesses Bofur hanging out with his cool friends. For the life of him, he cannot utter a single word in Thorin’s presence without saying something incredibly embarrassing. And you may be thinking,  _ oh, Bilbo, I’m sure whatever you say isn’t that bad!  _ And you would be wrong. For example, once Bilbo wrote the address of a restaurant on his arm, as he couldn’t find paper and really wanted to try the taqueria Bofur had recommended. The next day, all but the first letter of the street name had remained, a lonely Sharpied  _ D  _ on his arm. Thorin and his entourage had stopped to chat with Bofur in the halls, much as they do now, and Thorin (perhaps in a benevolent mood, wanting to keep the peace with the lesser folks) had asked Bilbo, quite kindly, “What is the D for on your arm?”    
And Bilbo, to his utmost horror, had said, “Oh, the  _ D  _ is for ‘dad’.” Where did that come from? He had no idea. Who says that? Why would someone write a D on their arm for ‘ _ dad’ _ ? Oh, the humiliation. Thorin had blinked at him, nodded to himself, and turned away, probably thinking something along the lines of,  _ What a freak. _

So yeah. Bilbo does not talk in Thorin’s presence, if he can help it. He would rather keep his dignity if he can. 

Eventually, Thorin & Co. disappear down the hall and Bofur turns back to Bilbo, sporting an amused grin.

“Don’t say it,” Bilbo groans, already feeling his face flush. “Just… don’t.”

Bofur shrugs, still wearing that shit-eating grin, and the two of them head to the cafeteria.  _ Finally,  _ because Bilbo is starving and he may end up eating one of Bofur’s arms if they take much longer. 

They get food and settle into a table, Bilbo practically inhaling his spaghetti and meatballs, not even caring that he’s getting sauce all over his face.

“Are  _ you  _ going to come to Ori’s party?” Bofur asks, a faint look of disgust on his face as he watches Bilbo annihilating his pasta. 

“Ha,” Bilbo snorts derisively. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Yeah,” Bofur admits, sighing. “But… I really think it would be fun. And if you could just put aside your feelings for - “

“ _ Don’t  _ say it,” Bilbo warns, waving his fork at Bofur. 

“Fine,” Bofur rolls his eyes. “If you could put aside your feelings, I think you’d have a good time. They’re all good guys.”

Bilbo doesn’t reply, partly because his mouth is full and partly because the problem isn’t that they aren’t good guys. It’s that they’re  _ too  _ good of guys. Especially one in particular. 

But that’s neither here nor there, and their conversation is put to an abrupt end by the energetic arrival of Fili and Kili. 

“God, I had to wait for like, six hours for this!” Kili groans as he practically collapses next to Bilbo, his lunch tray burgeoning with food.

“Seems like six hours’ worth of food prep,” Fili comments dryly, raising an eyebrow. 

Kili kicks Bilbo under the table, and Bilbo yelps.

“That bloody hurt!” He snaps, reaching down to massage his calf. 

“Sorry,” Kili shrugs, not looking sorry at all. “That was meant for Fili.”

“Oh, well, that makes it perfectly fine then,” Bilbo replies acidly, but Kili has already moved on, chomping down his food with great enthusiasm. 

“That League game we played last night was  _ epic, _ ” Fili says, ripping open a ketchup packet. “Your alt was fire, Bif.”

“Oh, you know,” Bofur waves a hand in (faked) modesty. “I’ve had practice. Those guys were down as soon as we started, honestly.”

Bilbo doesn’t play League of Legends, so he’s lost as usual when Bofur, Kili and Fili begin a rapid discussion of which champions they’re all best at. He zones out for the most part, scraping all traces of sauce out of his bowl, his gaze focused across Fili’s shoulder to the table where he can see the backside of a truly majestic head of raven hair. 

“Bilbo, oh, sweet Bilbo,” Kili croons, bringing him back to reality.

“What?” Bilbo asks, annoyed. He was quite enjoying his day dreaming. 

“You  _ will  _ come to Ori’s Friday, won’t you?”

“Absolutely not,” Bilbo huffs, pushing his plate away from him. 

“Come on!” Kili pleads, his eyes getting impossibly big, and really, it’s not fair - he’s got this whole Puss in Boots thing going on, and how is Bilbo supposed to resist that? “It won’t be the same without you!”

“I…” He trails off weakly, losing sight of his resolve. In moments like these, he can truly believe that Kili and Thorin are related. Kili can be just as irresistible as his cousin when he’s trying. When Bilbo doesn’t say anything, Kili amps it up, clearly smelling blood and knowing Bilbo is close to cracking. 

“It’s just…” Kili sighs, and oh God, are his eyelashes fluttering? “Being the youngest one there, I feel kind of left out… It would make me so happy if you came, Bilbo.”

“I, uh…” Bilbo stares at the beseeching face in front of his, and whatever his qualms were, he’s forgotten them by now. “Sure. Okay. I guess.”

Kili erupts into a glowing smile, all traces of his sad demeanor gone. “Yes! You should plan to stay the night, of course, we’ll probably be drinking and you know Thorin is quite the responsible one - “

Bilbo stops paying attention again, a feeling of dread quickly overtaking him. He can’t… He can’t go to a party that  _ Thorin  _ is going to be at. He’ll be expected to talk! 

It takes everything in him not to bury his head in his arms and scream.


	2. everybody wants you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang plays Charades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! thank you guys so much for all the comments!! i'm so excited to keep writing this.  
> also, i went back and edited the first chapter - i decided i wanted bofur as bilbo's best friend, not bifur. i have bigger plans for bifur :)
> 
> chapter title belong to taylor swift's gold rush

Bilbo practically falls through the green front door of his house - he  _ must _ talk to Otho about the nasty root sprouting up in their walkway, before he kills himself over it one day - and his nose is immediately assaulted with the pleasant scent of muffins baking. He can hear music coming from the kitchen, so he quickly drops his backpack on the floor and follows his nose.

His mother is in the kitchen, sure enough, and there’s bowls covered in batter strewn across the countertops. She’s humming along to an old tune the radio is playing, and Bilbo has to repeat, “ _ Mom,”  _ twice before she hears him.

Bilbo loves his mother. He wouldn’t ever talk about it to his friends, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it, obviously, but he  _ does _ . Love her, that is. Belladonna Baggins is his role model. Another thing he would be hard pressed to admit, but no less true for it. When she graduated high school, she travelled around the world for years, stopping for no one - with the exception of one Bungo Baggins. Bilbo’s favorite story when he was little used to be the tale of how they met. The story goes like this:

Belladonna was staying in a hostel in Edinburgh, Scotland. She had been there a week - far longer than she usually stayed anywhere, but she had fallen in love with the old city, and her laundry had piled up, anyways. Bilbo’s father, Bungo, was working at the hostel reception desk. He was a traveller, too, albeit perhaps not as fervent of one. He was working to save up a little money so he could continue onto the one place he’d always dreamed of going: Madagascar. One day, while doing laundry, Belladonna had run out of coins and had gone to the front desk to ask if she could exchange her bills for change. She never did get those coins, but maybe stumbled across something much greater. Her and Bungo got to talking, and it was only a mere three days later that the two of them flew to Africa and got on the next boat to Madagascar. 

It used to make Bilbo happy just to hear it, to imagine it - still does make him happy, honestly. Two people, just  _ knowing  _ they were right for each other, throwing caution to the wind and embarking on an adventure together. Their house is covered in photographs from his parents’ travels, worn and aged now but their smiles are as strong as the day it was taken. 

Bilbo stares at one of these photos now, as he waits for his mother to notice he’s there. In this one, Bungo and Belladonna are standing in front of an unbelievably blue ocean, their noses sunburnt, Bungo’s arm thrown around Belladonna’s shoulders. Her wild, dark curls are flying everywhere, caused by an invisible wind. 

“Bilbo!” His mother exclaims, and Bilbo jumps. “I didn’t see you there. You should have said something!”

“I did, Mom,” he grins, running his finger along one of the bowls and tasting the batter. “You were too busy singing.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Sorry. These muffins are really throwing me for a loop.”

“Why are you making them? You don’t even like cranberries,” Bilbo notes, hopping up to sit on the counter. 

“You know how much Lobelia brags about her muffins, and I wanted to show her it doesn’t take much skill to throw some sweet bread into an oven, but… I may be a little over my head.”

Bilbo snorts. The dislike between his aunt Lobelia and his mother is age old, and Belladonna made sure her son inherited it. “You don’t have to prove anything to Lobelia. You know what they say - a happy life is the best revenge.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it,” she grumbles, taking a muffin tin full of slightly burnt muffins out of the oven. At the sight, his mother sighs again. 

“Let me do it, Mom,” he tells her, trying not to laugh at the look of desperation on her face. “You know I’m better at this stuff than you.”

“Yes, well,” she huffs, tucking a curl behind her ear. “You got that from your father, clearly. He was always a whiz in the kitchen.”

“You’re good at cooking, just not  _ baking, _ ” he reassures her. “I’ll start baking after I finish my homework, okay?”

She nods, turning to face him fully. “How was school, honey?”

“Good,” he shrugs, reaching out to grab one of the burnt, hot muffins.  _ He  _ doesn’t mind if they’re a little crispy. “M’going to a party on Friday. At Ori’s.”

“A party?” His mother appraises him, suddenly stern. “Will there be alcohol there, young man?”

“God, Mom,” he shakes his head. “I think it’s just going to turn into a gaming night. What makes you think my friends are cool enough for alcohol?”

There certainly will be alcohol there, but he decides to spare his mother that concern, and he doesn’t mention that Thorin and his friends will be there. Bilbo can keep  _ some  _ things to himself, thank you very much. 

He still isn’t sure how he feels about going. Yes, Fili, Kili, Bofur and Ori will be there, but so will… a lot of other people. Certain people he can’t trust himself around,  _ especially  _ if he drinks. Bilbo gets quite humiliating when he’s drunk - his face turns bright pink and he can’t stop laughing. He’ll probably avoid the whole ordeal and stay sober. He can avoid staying the night there, as well.

The thought of sleeping in the same  _ vicinity  _ as Thorin makes his stomach twist in on itself. He can’t imagine waking up and having Thorin see what Bilbo looks like first thing in the morning. He also isn’t sure he could handle seeing what  _ Thorin  _ looks like in the morning, although, knowing Thorin, he’s probably gorgeous. It’s wildly unfair, is what it is. 

* * *

Friday comes much faster than he wanted. After school, Bofur comes over and they eat pizza and talk about the upcoming event.

“You know, I’m feeling kind of tired,” Bilbo hedges, but he’s quickly interrupted by Bofur.

“Don’t you  _ dare, _ ” his friends says, a note of steel to his voice. “Do you know how many parties you’ve cancelled on in the last two years? Do you know?”

“Obviously not,” Bilbo scowls. “But it seems like you’re about to tell me.”

“ _ Thirteen.  _ Thirteen,  _ Bilbo.  _ Everyone always asks me, ‘oh, Bofur, where’s Bilbo?’ And I have to tell them some cool excuse I make up, because I know what you're really doing is playing Minecraft and snacking on biscuits. It’s embarrassing, Bilbo. For me. Everyone wonders, why doesn’t Bofur’s best friend come with him? It’s - “

“Alright, alright, God,” Bilbo cuts him off before Bofur can get even more worked up. “I’ll come. Ugh. You’re such a drama queen.”

“ _ I’m  _ the drama queen? You’ve missed  _ thirteen  _ parties because of your little crush - “

“ _ Don’t, _ ” Bilbo holds up a hand. “I said I was going, alright? But Saturday, I’m sleeping at your house and we are doing  _ nothing  _ but playing Minecraft and eating biscuits.”

“Fine,” Bofur shrugs. “I’ll do anything, as long as you come. Now that this is settled, come on, we should get going - “

“Already?” Bilbo can feel a familiar panic building in his stomach. He glances down at what he’s wearing - khakis and a t-shirt. “Should I change?”

“Yes, put on your prettiest dress,” Bofur snorts. “Don’t forget your bouquet, either -”

Bilbo tries to smother him with a pillow.

* * *

Honestly, Bilbo’s really built up these parties in his head. He’s expecting the kind of party you see teenagers have in movies - you know, red cups everywhere, keg stands, yelling, sex, the usual. 

When they pull up and park at Ori’s house, he’s both surprised and relieved to see that there are no drunk teenagers lying about on the lawn. In fact, he can’t even tell there’s a party going on from the outside, and it’s a bit reassuring. At least he won’t need to run from the cops or anything.

They head to the front door, but before Bofur can push it open, Bilbo stops him. “Wait,” he hisses, glancing around. “Do I… you know, do I look okay? Maybe we should go back and I can change…”

Bofur stares at him incredulously. “Bilbo, I thought your previous  _ eight  _ outfits were fine. This one’s good, too. I bet Thorin will fall right into your arms as soon as he sees your respectable henley -” 

“ _ Shut up _ ,” Bilbo punches him, Bofur laughs, and they head inside.

Again, Bilbo is surprised by how… calm it all is. The foyer is empty, and he can hear laughter ringing out from the living room. He follows Bofur, lagging behind a little bit.

In the living room, everyone is… playing Charades, apparently. Ori is acting something out with vigor, and his older brothers, Dori and Nori, are laughing so hard they’re almost falling off the couch. Dwalin is sniggering from his spot on the floor, holding a beer. Balin is texting on his phone, Fili and Kili are yelling out guesses, looking increasingly frustrated, and Bombur, Bofur’s cousin, is grabbing a beer from the fridge. Thorin is nowhere to be found.

Bilbo relaxes a little. Charades and beer, he can do - especially if Thorin decided not to come tonight. 

“You came!” Kili exclaims when he sees Bilbo and Bofur standing there. “Yes! Come on, get drinks! Guys, we should re-do the teams now that they’re here.”

“Let’s wait,” Dwalin says. “Dis and Thorin are almost here. Should be pulling up right now.”

Well. So much for no Thorin. Bilbo’s stomach turns over and his eyes find the floor. Unfortunately, he can’t mope for long, because Kili grabs his arm and drags him onto the couch next to him and Fili. 

“D’you know how to play Charades?” Kili asks excitedly, almost bouncing up and down. 

“Um, yes,” Bilbo stammers. 

“Good. House rules - don’t be soft. Make the clues as difficult as possible. If it seems impossible to guess it, then you’re on the right track.”

“Okay,” Bilbo nods, and he accepts the beer Bofur got him from the fridge. He wasn’t going to drink but - now it sounds nice to unwind a little. 

He watches as Ori continues to act something out, starting to feel a bit better about everything, when the door opens and Thorin and Dis walk into the crowded living room.

Both of them are so…  _ imposing.  _ Dis shares Thorin’s black hair and bright blue eyes, and perhaps if Bilbo was straight,  _ she  _ would be the one he’s in love with. As it is, Bilbo barely notices her because he can’t take his eyes off Thorin. His hair is scraped into a bun on the top of his head, and his shoulders are so…. broad. 

“Hey, everyone,” he nods as everyone shouts in excitement. To Bilbo’s horror, Thorin settles down right next to him on the couch, and Bilbo shoots a panicked glance to Bofur. Bofur just smirks. 

Thorin…  _ smells  _ good. Like bergamot, and something spicy, and it is… well, it shouldn’t be legal for someone to be so  _ attractive.  _

“Okay, new teams,” Kili announces. “Let’s just split the room in half. Thorin, Bilbo, Dwalin, Bombur, Ori, and me on one team. Balin, Bofur, Dori, Nori, Fili, and Dis, you’re the other team.”

There’s a heated debate about which team should leave the room for their clue writing, and then another prolonged argument about how many clues they should write ( _ “Thirty?  _ Kili, that’s way too many,”) and then finally, Bilbo’s group gets up and shuffles into the kitchen, closing the door.

“Okay,” Thorin takes the lead, naturally. “Let’s think up some really hard fucking clues. Got any ideas?”

“How about, ‘the apple on Mr. Grey’s desk’?” Dwalin suggests with a smirk. 

“Too easy,” Thorin dismisses. “They’ll just have to mime eating an apple and a weird hat and everyone will get it.”

Bilbo is a bit shocked -  _ too  _ easy? If the clues are much harder than that one, he’s not sure he’s cut out for this. 

“How about  _ The New York Times?”  _ Ori pipes up. 

Thorin points his pen at Ori, grinning. “Love it. Keep it coming.”

Bilbo stays mostly silent as the others start throwing ideas around, and then, suddenly, a pair of icy eyes are staring him down.

“Bilbo?” Oh, God, his name sounds so nice coming out of Thorin’s mouth. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Um,” Bilbo says intelligently. “Um, ‘perfection?’”

Thorin smiles at him, and Bilbo is glad he said something, because now he would certainly be unable to speak. “So conceptual. Great.”

With that, they finish their clues and head back out to the living room. The clues go into hats and somehow, it’s decided Bilbo will go first, to his horror. 

With everyone’s eyes on him, he reaches cautiously into the fairly horrible tophat containing the clues. He pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it.  _ Ethics. _

Jesus. Ethics? Really? He supposes he should have known the clues would be ridiculous - God knows his team’s clues are. 

He stares at the paper in his hand for a moment, and Dis says, “Bilbo? Do you know what it is?”

“Yes, yeah, sorry,” he stammers, shoving the paper into his pocket. He thinks for a moment more, and then spreads his hands out, making the Charades gesture for ‘ _ concept’. _

“Concept,” Thorin says loudly, and Bilbo nods at him, hoping he’s not flushing as much as he feels like he is. 

Struck by a sudden inspiration, he reaches into his coat pocket (he didn’t take off his coat? He must look like a freak) and puts on his reading glasses. He adopts a thoughtful look, and then weighs his hands in the air.

“Decision!” Kili yells. Bilbo shakes his head.

“Thinking!” Ori shouts, and Bilbo doesn’t even acknowledge that with a response, because come on,  _ thinking? _

“Ethics,” Thorin says suddenly, and Bilbo stops, knowing he must look as shocked as he feels. 

“Yeah!” He exclaims, then clears his throat. “Um, yeah. Ethics. You got it.”

“How’d you know that, Thor?” Kili asks. 

“It was obvious,” Thorin shrugs, his lips quirking. “Bilbo’s a good actor.”

Now Bilbo is  _ sure  _ he’s blushing, to the roots of his hair, and he quickly maneuvers himself back onto the couch. He’s not  _ that  _ good of an actor, and he can’t help but think that maybe him and Thorin are more similar than he thought, maybe - 

He cuts off that train of thoughts, but it’s hard to focus on the game. A few turns go by, and then it’s Thorin’s turn, which naturally means Bilbo can focus on nothing else, now. If anything, it’s an excuse to stare at Thorin as much as he wants.

He’s got such… big hands, and this is illustrated even more when Thorin points a finger into his palm, the Charades symbol for ‘ _ place’.  _

“Erebor!” Ori exclaims. Apparently, it’s Ori’s thing to suggest literally the first thing that comes to mind.

Thorin shakes his head, smiling a little, and then pretends to write. He holds his hands up above his head.

“...Hat?” Dwalin says questioningly. 

“Oh!” Bilbo exclaims. “Mr. Grey’s office!”

Thorin beams at him, nodding. “You got it.”

“God,” Dis groans. “I knew that was too easy. Should never have listened to Bofur.”

“Hey!” Bofur protests. “I thought it would take them a lot longer.”

Dis sighs heavily, but Bilbo barely notices, because he’s too busy thinking about the apparent mind meld he and Thorin share. 

For the rest of the game, it continues much the same. Thorin can guess what Bilbo’s acting almost immediately, and vice versa. Bilbo tries very hard not to read into it, but it’s pretty much impossible. 

After the game is over and Bilbo has drank two more beers, Thorin sits down next to him on the couch again. Bilbo feels delightedly tipsy, and he only hopes his face isn’t bright pink. Knowing him, though, it is. 

“Good job,” Thorin rumbles, and Bilbo almost chokes on his beer as Thorin’s thigh brushes against his.

“T-thanks,” he stammers. “You, too.”

“Why didn’t you come to these earlier? We could have a world record by now,” Thorin says, smiling at Bilbo. 

“Yeah, well, you’d have to be a bit quicker on the ‘person’ category for that to happen,” Bilbo replies, and immediately regrets it. Who does he think he is, sitting here, teasing  _ Thorin Durin? _

“I see,” Thorin grins. “You could improve on your concepts, you know. But maybe those things go over your head?”

Bilbo sputters, and Thorin laughs at him, and he… he can’t believe he’s sitting here, laughing, having a good time, as if Bilbo hasn’t been in love with Thorin since middle school. 

“I’m quite smart, thank you very much,” Bilbo tells him primly. “I  _ can  _ read, and everything.”

“Wow,” Thorin comments. “How impressive. If that’s still an accomplishment for you, than perhaps I see why you lack an understanding of concepts - “

Thorin’s rather excellent burn is cut off by a drunken Bofur stumbling onto their couch, his cheeks quite red. 

“Bilbo!” He exclaims. “Y’gonna sleep here tonight? Right?”

Bilbo blinks, remembering his plan to go home, but… well, he’s having fun, and he’s had a few beers, and he doesn’t really… want to leave. 

“Sure,” he agrees. “If it’s okay with Ori.”

“It is,” Thorin chimes in, a bit dismissively.

  
“Alright then,” Bilbo shrugs. “I guess I’m staying.”

And then Fili and Kili spill onto the couch too, and there’s a lot of yelling, and Dis and Dwalin are shouting about something in the background, and for the rest of the night, Bilbo doesn’t get another second alone with Thorin. 

As he settles onto the couch, well past three am, and the sounds of Bofur and Balin talking in the kitchen float into the living room, and he can feel a sleeping Thorin’s hair brushing slightly against his feet at the other end of the couch, he thinks:  _ Well. This wasn’t so bad, after all.  _


	3. anyone would die to feel your touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! i guess it wasn't the best idea to start a new story right when the semester began lmao. i've been so swamped but i'm hoping to update more!!  
> and thanks for everyone who commented!! i tried to respond to all of them, they are so appreciated :)
> 
> as usual, fic title and chapter title belong to taylor swift

The next morning, Bilbo promptly regrets his decision to stay the night.

It was probably all the beer - he  _ never  _ has good ideas when he’s drinking, and Bofur would have reminded him of that if Bofur himself wasn’t also drunk last night.

Or maybe it’s that last night he felt clean and put together (as put-together as he ever feels, which isn’t much) and now his mouth feels like something died in it, and his head hurts, and the sun is blinding him. He buries his head into the blankets, and freezes when his foot brushes against a soft head of hair.

He forgets the sunlight for a moment and peaks down the couch. Thorin is asleep by his feet, his dark hair spread across the pillow, and Bilbo is - well, let’s just say he was completely right about Thorin. He looks  _ majestic _ , even first thing in the morning, even after a night of drinking. The sunlight is caught in his hair, illuminating it into a million different shades of black, and his eyelashes are fluttering delicately against his cheeks. He must be dreaming.

Bilbo stares for a few moments, secure in the notion that no one will ever know he was doing it, when Thorin’s eyes snap open and he’s pierced by bright blue depths.

“Watching me sleep, huh?” Thorin grumbles, his voice all rough from sleep. 

“Um,” Bilbo replies, his face turning bright red. “Sorry - I was just, um, trying to see if you were awake?”

Thorin raises a dark eyebrow at him, looking skeptical. “Why would my eyes be closed if I was awake?”

“Well, you’re talking now, aren’t you? For all I know, you’ve been awake this whole time and decided just now to start talking.”

“Maybe, but I don’t enjoy lurking about my sleeping friends, unlike  _ some,”  _ he eyes Bilbo.

Bilbo can’t believe they’re talking about something so ridiculous, but he plays along, because Thorin just called him a  _ friend.  _

“Yeah, it’s sort of my kink,” he replies. 

Thorin snorts and rolls off the couch, revealing long, muscular legs obscured only by flannel boxers. Bilbo quickly looks away. 

“Want some coffee?” Thorin tilts his head towards the kitchen.

  
“Oh, God, yes,” Bilbo untangles himself from the blankets, his headache forgotten, and follows Thorin to the kitchen. No one else is awake yet, and the house is quiet, save for the gentle clink of mugs and the sound of the faucet as Thorin makes them coffee.

“So,” Thorin begins once the machine is going, turning around to lean against the counter. “Why haven’t you come to a party before?”

Bilbo shrugs, picking at a thread unravelling from his t-shirt. “Just busy, I guess.”

“You and Bofur are in all the same classes,” Thorin replies. “Come on. You can tell me.”

Bilbo is not sure that he can, but he can’t resist the slightly cajoling tone Thorin’s using. It’s too tempting, so he makes something up. “I guess I wasn’t sure…. if I would fit in here.”

“Why? Because you’re so bad at concepts?”

“No,” he rolls his eyes, making sure his annoyance at the comment is very clear. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t sure. And I’m happy to see that I was wrong.” 

Thorin seems to realize there’s more to the story, but he turns around and pours them coffee instead of pressing, for which Bilbo is grateful for. 

“This bunch isn’t very exclusive,” Thorin informs him as he hands him a mug. “They’d probably accept a gang of raccoons, if they were cute enough.”

“Do you think raccoons run in gangs, Thorin?” Bilbo asks innocently.

“I think that they do…” he squints at Bilbo. “... not run in gangs?”

“Good job, bud,” Bilbo takes a smug sip of his coffee.

“I take it back,” Thorin grouses. “A gang of raccoons would be better than you, probably.”

“Well, it’s clear to me that your friends truly will accept anyone, since you’re here.”

“Whatever,” Thorin waves him off, but there’s a quirk to his lips. 

They sip their coffee quietly for a few moments, and it’s a surprisingly peaceful silence. 

It’s broken quickly, of course, by Kili stumbling into the kitchen, naked save for his boxers, his hair sticking straight up in multiple directions.

“Some ‘o that better be for me,” he grumbles at them, and then snatches Bilbo’s coffee right out of his hand.

“Hey!” Bilbo protests, but Kili’s already drinking it.

“Sorry, Boggins, but I needed it more than you,” Kili says affectionately, placing his now empty coffee mug on the counter. 

“Boggins?” Thorin asks.

“It’s nothing - “ Bilbo begins.

“It’s my nickname for Bilbo,” Kili interrupts him, shooting Bilbo a mischievous look. “Did y’know that our Bilbo loves nicknames? Lives for them, he does.”

  
“Really?” Thorin glances at Bilbo, clearly surprised.

Kili answers, again, before Bilbo can say anything. “Oh, yeah. I think Bofur calls him Bill? Don’t quote me on that.”

“Well, in that case, I’m going to have to think of a nickname for you,” Thorin grins. 

Kili leaves the kitchen then, having wreaked enough chaos for the time being.

“I really don’t like nicknames,” Bilbo begins, a hint desperately. “Bofur doesn’t call me that, only Kili has - “

“What do you think of ‘little bunny’?” Thorin muses out loud, clearly ignoring Bilbo’s pleading. “I like it.”

“‘Little bunny’,” he replies faintly. “Um, if I’m being honest, I don’t like it one bit. It’s not even easier to say -”

“Oh, little bunny,” Thorin shakes his head at him. “You seemed to know a great deal about raccoons, and you’re really quite small. It seems fitting for you.”

“Because… bunnies know about raccoons? I don’t see the connection there, Thorin, I really don’t - “

But Thorin is already sporting a self-satisfied grin, and he ignores the rest of Bilbo’s protests, leaving the kitchen.

* * *

  
Later, at Bofur’s house, once their computers are set up and they’re waiting for Fili and Kili to get on Discord, Bofur swivels his chair to eye Bilbo.

“So,” he begins, a shifty note in his voice. “I hear Thorin gave you a nickname?”

“Shut up,” Bilbo groans, burying his face in his hands. “Kili humiliated me, and he did it  _ intentionally,  _ did you tell him about -” 

“No,” Bofur scoffs, cutting him off. “But it’s pretty obvious, so maybe he figured it out. And anyways,  _ little bunny, _ I don’t think I’ve  _ ever  _ seen Thorin act like he did last night.”

  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bilbo grumbles.

“I mean, you guys had chemistry! You were like, joking and teasing him. Only Dwalin ever does that to Thorin, and Thorin’s  _ never  _ pleased with it.”

“Come on, Bof,” Bilbo shakes his head. “We were just drunk and talking. I’m sure it meant nothing.”

“Kili told me you guys were flirting up a storm in the kitchen this morning - “

“ _ Flirting up a storm?”  _ Bilbo exclaims incredulously. “Has Kili - and I say this with the utmost seriousness - ever flirted before? We were just  _ talking,  _ about raccoons, of all things. It was not  _ flirting. “  _

Bofur holds his hands up, turning back to his computer. “Sure, whatever. Kili said it was getting pretty hot in there, but maybe he just imagined it.”

Bilbo doesn’t reply, glad that the conversation is over, but then Bofur turns around again.

“I just,” his friend begins, sighing. “Why won’t you even  _ consider  _ that Thorin might, you know, like you? Isn’t that what you want?”

Bilbo looks down at his hands. He doesn’t know how to explain to Bofur how exhilarating it had been to talk to Thorin, to make him laugh, to touch him, even fleetingly. How his heart had raced and his tongue had felt thick in his mouth, his stomach flipping every time Thorin smiled at him. How he isn’t sure if he could handle it, if he told Thorin he wanted him and Thorin… didn’t want him. 

“He doesn’t want it, Bofur,” Bilbo responds finally, not meeting his friend’s eyes. “It’s easier to just accept that now, instead of getting my hopes up.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Bofur says, but he turns back to his computer and gets on the Discord call with Kili and Fili, and their conversation is over. 

Bilbo plays Minecraft late into the night (Kili and him are trying to create the Pyramids of Giza on their server) and he eats pizza rolls with Bofur in the kitchen at two in the morning, and the whole time, he can’t stop seeing Thorin’s smile, how it felt to have that smile directed at him. 

* * *

On Monday, during lunch, Bilbo is about to join his usual table with Bofur, Fili and Kili when a shout catches his attention.

“Little bunny!”   
  


He turns around, and Thorin is waving spastically from his table, trying to catch his attention. Dwalin is eyeing his friend, looking confused, and Bilbo feels the same. He glances at his table, where Bofor is gesturing (not that subtly) towards Thorin’s table.

Bilbo sighs, turns around, and goes to join Thorin. 

Balin and Dwalin are forced to scoot over, and Bilbo finds himself so close to Thorin that his knee brushes his whenever one of them moves. It’s hopelessly distracting. 

“Hey,” Thorin greets him. “Sit with us today! It’s not fair that Bofur gets you everyday.”

“Fine,” Bilbo pretends to be reluctant, even though his heart is hammering. “I know you’re desperate for my attention, so I’ll bless you with my presence today.”

“Thanks, Your Highness,” Thorin looks amused. “Really, I know it must be quite troublesome to find time in your day for peasants such as us, so we appreciate it.”

Dwalin mutters something that sounds like, “ _ We  _ appreciate it?” but they both ignore him.

“Yes, well,” Bilbo shrugs. “I have to keep the common folk happy, don’t I?”

  
If Bilbo had looked up and across the cafeteria, he would see Bofur, Fili and Kili’s eyes glued to their table. As it is, he doesn’t look up, already immediately captivated by Thorin, who seems to feel the same.

“Thorin’s so… sassy when he’s with Bilbo,” Fili comments, shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth.

“ _ Sassy?  _ Nice word choice, Fi,” Kili snorts, yelping when Fili elbows him. 

“Yeah,” Bofur shakes his head, looking confused. “It’s kind of weird, right?”

“Nah,” Kili shrugs. “I always knew they’d get along. Like a house on fire, right?”

“And you guys know that Bilbo’s in love with Thorin, right?” Bofur asks. 

“Of course,” the two reply in unison. 

Fili swallows another bite of pizza. “S’obvious, isn’t it? Bilbo turns so red whenever Thorin’s mentioned.”

“He thinks no one else knows,” Bofur explains, still staring at the two across the cafeteria. 

“I don’t think anyone but us knows,” Kili offers. “And we won’t tell anyone, will we, Fi?”

“Nope,” Fili agrees. “But now that I see them together, I think Thorin feels the same.”

“Time will tell,” Kili says ominously, causing Bofur and Fili to glance at him. 

“You aren’t planning anything, are you, Kili? Because Bilbo will  _ flay me alive  _ if he thinks I - “

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Bofur,” Kili says in a way that’s supposed to be reassuring, but is definitely not. 

Bofur’s about to respond, but he’s distracted by loud laughter coming from Bilbo and Thorin’s table. 

“Maybe you  _ should  _ do something,” Bofur finally says.

Kili and Fili exchange exuberant looks, and Bofur wonders if maybe he made a mistake.

* * *

Bilbo ends up eating lunch with Thorin every day that week. Bofur gets increasingly more suggestive every time Bilbo sits there, but Bilbo gets better at ignoring him, so it’s not too bad.

It’s Friday, now, and they’re sitting in Mr. Grey’s classroom. Bofur is clearly practicing sleeping with his eyes closed, and Bilbo is once again staring out the window, transfixed by the sunny day he could be enjoying outside if it weren’t for the chains of capitalism keeping him in school. 

_ I could always become a simple farmer, give this whole life up, start anew,  _ he thinks to himself, but quickly decides against it. Thorin’s applying to Harvard, and a bunch of other Ivy League schools, and if Bilbo has any hope of being with him, he better do something worthwhile, too -

He cuts those thoughts off before they can go too haywire. He’s not  _ with  _ Thorin, and he never will be, so he really shouldn’t daydream. 

After school, he gets home to an empty house. His mother must still be at work. He settles at the kitchen table with his school work and tries his best to focus, but his mind keeps wandering to bright eyes and dark hair and big hands. He thinks about how safe he would feel, if Thorin was holding him, how Thorin fills a room when he enters it, how nothing could hurt him if he had Thorin…

_ Get ahold of yourself, Bilbo Baggins!  _ He scolds himself, shaking his head. His mother has always been a romantic, and it seems he inherited that trait from her. If she knew about Thorin, she would probably tell him to craft a romantic gesture or write him a song, or something.

And that advice would be useless, he reminds himself sternly. Him and Thorin are  _ friends,  _ and they might not even be that. A week of lunches doesn’t mean much, probably, just that Thorin thinks he’s funny, a passing enjoyment. And that’s fine with Bilbo, it really is. He’ll take what he can get.

His phone buzzes and he checks it immediately.

_ from: unknown number _

_ its me, little bunny _

_ want to come over tonight? _

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what u think! <3 writing this is so fun? 
> 
> title and chapter title belong to taylor swift


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